Girian seeing the bugbears fall like wheat finishes his spell and condenses the drowsy feelings he had been channeling to the lone survivor. He mutters an arcane word and a nearly invisible ripple surrounds his hands for few moments as he pushes the spell away.
The remaining bugbear falls unconscious as it is hit by the blueish ripple in the air which shoots from Girian's hands.
Combat ended
Seeing as the fight is finished as the last bugbear suddenly falls down, Bhalur hangs his shield on his back. Leaving the sleeping bugbear for others, Bhalur slowly approaches the remains, what is left of the dead woman and offers his silent prayer for her soul as well wishing for it a good journey back to great beyond.
Looking around a bit as he turns towards Ornthalas "May I ask if there is some traditions among your people regarding dead? Should we take some items belonging to her to give to her relatives or should we bury her?" asking with a sad voice. Leaving the looting for others Bhalur absentmindedly scratches the head of Shaer and looks around. Approaching the pot of bugbears and kicking it, spilling its content to the ground
Rhialla sees to binding the bugbear that fell asleep after disarming him.
"Does anyone know how to speak bugbear?" she asks as she tightens the final knot. "Ugh, is there a one of these that doesn't smell like wet manged dog? I can almost taste the smell its so thick." Rhialla smirks a little half joking in the reveling of the decisive victory.
Rhialla will take a moment before the creature wakes to return some of Magnes's vitality.
The grey-haired ranger stands next to Bhalur looking at the mangled remains of the Waeldwoman with a sorrowful expression. He holds up her arm to look at the blue patterns that are tattooed on it. "She's a Ghost Bear. We should bury her by the river bed." He takes a beautiful feathered talisman from her neck. "Next time I come by Falan Feren I will give this to her people."
" I think 'Wet dog' is how those always smell. regardless of sex or age. I can't speak bugbear but I have a weave that ought to let me understand it. Dead useful that one. These likely know at least some of the local tongue as well, would make it easier to ambush the travelers around here." The human responds looking at the surviving bugbear in annoyance before spitting off to the side.
"It is a shame we arrived too late though." The human says, though the regret rings hollow. The humans eyes glazing over the womans corpse like yet more of the scenery. " I'll take a look around and see to removing the bugbears kit."
Magnes spends a few moments coming down from his drunken state, looking at the wound and seeming to care very little. He give Rhialla a smile as she heals the worst of it. "Thanks. Tha' battle went quite well this time, seems I was the only one who even got hurt, an' I was expectin' to be."
With that he glances over to the upturned pot and frowns. "Stones teeth, why do we always happen across the most memorable creatures. giant spiders, Leaping albino frog men, giant brain eating spiders and now cannibal bug bears." The Dwarf complains before his brain seems to catch on a thought. [b]"But is it cannibalism if they are eating a different kind of humanoid? .. People-vorous bugbears doesn't sound nearly as good."
He then looks over to Ornthalas "This fancy thing I got in Bhelskar ought to help in digging the grave when we do so." The dwarf suggests pointing to the rod studded with buttons stuck through a loop on his pack. " thing can turn into damn near any tool."
"Ah, the cannibalism question. I heard a group of theologians discuss the issue before. By the definition they could agree that it wasn't indeed cannibalism but there was an issue with establishing a certifiable way to word it as evil. One stated that eating any sentient being was evil, then the other argued that sentience wasnt enough unless humanoids planned to all become vegetarians. Then a third with ties to a druidic order said that even plants perceive and feel so that wouldn't have been an option either." Rhialla sighs waiting for the bugbear to wake. "Eventually they revisited the core of the question and deduced that the question, 'is it evil to eat other intelligent and sentient beings', was a wrong one. The question is, 'is it evil to eat sapient creatures; those that can think and reason in abstract terms.' They then eventually all agreed that when there is an abundance of resources, especially food, it is indeed quite evil."
Magnes gives the paladin a quirked brow as she speaks. "Pretty sure "Evil" is a social construct anyway. I don' think its tha best topic to discuss as cannibal soup tries to soak into our boots though. Be nice to have some manner ah' cleanin' magic. I'm gonna have a hard time sleeping in this place with this fresh in meh mind." The Dwarf taking the effort to start gathering properly shaped building shards into a new fire pit.
" So dunno how long that magic's gonna last buh I know ah could use an actual meal after that. Ornthalas, think there might be game in the area that wont either poison or attempt to eat us?"
Ornthalas finishes up the gruesome work of packing the pieces of waeldwoman flesh into bags. "Yes. But don't get your hopes up. We might have to settle for trail rations. But first, we got some digging to do. I could use a little help here. Could you take one of these?" He holds out one of the bags of waeldwoman remains.
"You'll never convince me evil is just something society created. Or were you being sarcastic?" Rhialla stows her bow and nudges the bugbear awake with a prod from her boot.
Seeing the dead Waeldwoman, Kevroth stands quiet for a few moments then turns his back and goes to stand by the outer perimeter, seeming to stand guard.
The large fur-covered humanoid awakens with a grunt and tries without luck to get loose from the ropes that tie it. It then looks at you with disdain in its tiny milk-white eyes and bellows "Release me elf!" in broken common, spittle flying away.
With much bravado, Rhialla shouts back, "You're one to make demands! We've broken your number without breaking a sweat, and your spoils are our now ours."
She pauses and looks up as if in thought, "I suppose since I felled the largest of your number in a single blow, there would be no harm in letting you go; your insignificant threat nullified so easily. You'd probably die of exposure in the wilds." Then she looks back down directly into his white eyes. "No. I don't think I will. What would be in it for me to let you go? I already have your belongings, your life, and I bet you know nothing worth torturing you over. It's probably best just to flay your fur and see how long it takes the insects and worms to burrow into your wounds and feed on you like you were feeding on one of our own. How fitting, insects eating an insect. Poetic even."
Rhialla turns from the bugbear to hide her face to contort it and signal to the others like she is completely winging it, "Where's your knife, I want to get this done before the golden harp priestess we're after gets much further on ahead of us."
Slowly putting his hand forward and gently taking one of the bags containing remains of the waeldwoman, Bhalur moves away from the site and follows Ornthalas to bury the bag near river
Ornthalas walks down to the riverbed by the broken stone bridge followed by Bhalur and begins digging with the anytool he has borrowed from Magnes.
"Thank you for helping me with this, bendalë. It is grim work, but she deserves a proper burial. If only we had a priest..."
Magnes sighs as he looks over to the bugbear
"Well as I've a woman to bury that the lot of you sideshow freaks decided to butcher I can't exactly stay and question you. As meh' ally says we are here hunting for someone, they came through a few weeks ago. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, or perhaps anythin' about the Bherug tribe would you? The dwarf says, leaning forward on the button studded steel stick in both hands. Eyes glinting darkly under his furrowed brows, a grim smile on his face.
"You should understand, that due to your actions a quick death is the absolute best you can hope for. This is a magic tool, it can turn into any tool that I have ever seen or heard of. Any torture implement designed by any race. Tell me Bugbear do you think you are strong enough to survive that? I'd advise you answer any questions my companions have for you, I am going to bury this woman. When I get back I'll start getting creative unless my allies say you have been cooperative." The dwarf pressing a few buttons on the staff and it rapidly shifting into a dangerous and painful looking scalpel with something like a potatoe peeler attached to it. Having made his point the dwarf turns to follow Bhallur and Ornthalas.
Having walked quickly to catch up Magnes glances over to Bhallur and gives the great cat-deer a grin.
"Eh, ye'd be surprised how tha world can provide if yer lookin in tha right spots Ornthalas."
Before walking away from the ruin to bury the waeldwoman, Ornthalas hands Rhialla a knife and says "Make sure to wipe it good and clean afterwards. I don't want that stinking vile one's blood on my hunting knife."
The bugbear ignores Magnes and looks at Rhialla and grins a big yellow grin. He already has a lot of scars on his face and doesn't appear to be scared of the knife. "Go on then elf! Do your worst!"
Rhialla takes the knife examining it closely held up into a ray of light shining through a ruined wall, "So unafraid..." she paused letting the thought dangle unfinished "what should we call you, hm?" Rhialla's eyes darted toward her captive bugbear before turning towards him almost as if she were acting out something she'd seen or done before. "My father used to call you boggelmen when I was little. That was before he was no longer my father. I suppose it is fitting that the name Boggle will do, unless you a final wish to have your true name be known." Rhialla paused dramatically again to allow the bugbear to speak before she continued
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Helping out Ornthalas with the digging by switching time to time digger, Bhalur speaks after a some time "I do not know if I am a proper priest but I am an acolyte of the Dragon Matron. Nothing relevant to healing or divine magic although I know some of the members in our church can do some of that."
Continueing digging and then switching again with Ornthalas "If you still do not mind, I can offer some prayers for her soul and wish that Dragon Matron watches over her soul and... um, whom do Waeldfolk pray to if I may ask? It never hurts to include prayers to others also." Bhalur adds as he tries to find some small sticks from surroundings.
Coming soon back with a bunch of sticks and then searching for a small amount of stones, Bhalur begins his minial construction of a small shrine. First sticking the small wooden sticks in a squareshape, deep in the ground and after that the stones in the middle.
Making a small stonetable, a grude one, he finishes it with a moss over it and as a final touch, lays the rest of the bundle of sticks above the alter to form kind of shelter to protect it.
" As I said, I am not a powerful priets but I can only wish a good rest for her soul. I hope that this place will be protected and kept in its condition, ever remaining and sheltering the final resting place of this poor woman. May this place protect other tired travelers from the horrors and evil of creatures lurking here, may it bring comfort to them who are weary of their travel. May their thirstiness be washed away and do not evil befall on them" praying on his knees in front of the small makeshift altar.
Shaer watching all this over from Bhalur head, oddly not moving and just eyes glimmering, as it watches the whole seremon passing by. As Bhalur finishes, Shaer takes off and soon disappears to sky. After a while Shaer appears again and lands on her shoulder like she never was away.
His hand touching Shaer head and petting it as he turn toward Ornthalas "Bhakiris believe that we can hear the Nature, Dru'uth. I share the connection with Dragon Matron but... whoever it is, I wish and hope and believe, that this place will be watched over. Nature is all around and we all go back to nature. Now the Gosd and Goddesses watches over it or Dru'uth" a sad smile on his face, Bhalur speaks with a low voice "Maybe in time this place will be forgotten but at least the Nature will remember it. It will be discovered again but it will always remain here, protecting her remains"
"Bhalur, humble as you might be you are certainly the closest we have to a holy man. And I think you did that poor soul justice."
With that Magnes nods to the miniature shrine and produces a flask.
" Sadly all ah meh city's death rituals are long involved things about honoring the persons family with equal parts ass kissing an regimented tradition."
"Now lets finish this an' be off. Feel like the forest is givin' me eyes." The Dhouvar comments as he glances behind him in annoyance.
[b]"Looks like he's baiting you into killing him. Assuming his tribe's monstrous like him they will do worse than kill him for failing. It's Girian speaking."[b]
While they are digging Ornthalas answers Bhalur: "You're an acolyte of Matalar? I guess that's why you have a pseudodragon then... It would mean a great deal if you could say some words."
When Bhalur asks whom the Waeldfolk pray to, Ornthalas answers: "The ancestors. The spirits of the forest. Mireki. Gaundalur. Myrshalar. Us Waeldfolk are pretty religious."
When Bhalur is finished, Ornthalas nods and puts a hand on Bhalur's shoulder. "Thank you Bhalur. That was perfect." he says in a most deepfelt tone of voice and walks back towards the camp in the ruins.
"Gruush-Mog Baghraa. That's my name elf. Gruush-Mog Baghraa of the Broken Skull tribe. Remember that name when my kin overruns your land. Remember that name when the sky is dark over Arglondar with smoke rising from your burning towns. I will be laughing with the Eldreth Malecai when the new master throws the severed head of your beloved king to the worgs. I spit on you, pitiful elf!"
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"Ah, Baghraa of Broken Skull... So unafraid. Your tribe has done well to train you to stare down fear even in the face of certain doom. I bet they feed you that slop about how servants of your way are guaranteed to serve the demons in the afterlife. I assure you, only worthy believers enjoy the fruits of their masters, or demons, efforts. Not boggles such as yourself. You'll probably toil and suffer for your failure, especially to what you think is an elf. They don't reward stupidity."
"But I digress. My father, when I was little, was quite a powerful man. He battled your kind a few years before I was born and told me their story. The Boggle men of Jagged Teeth." Rhialla walked over the to bugbear as she was toying with the knife. "He used to tell me all about your strange ways and your unending hunger for children's blood. He used to warn me that if I stayed up too late or was out too long after dark, that the Jagged Teeth Boggle men would get me."
Rhialla bounced the blunt end of the knife off the captives shoulder once before beginning to circle around him, continuing her story, "For years it worked. My father was always a great storyteller, so I was so afraid your kind would come for me and eat my toes and fingers. When I grew older, still afraid of the stories, I had my first encounter with the Jagged Teeth. I was on my way from one place to the next with many others, using the refuge of an armed squad of the King's guard when we were set upon by dozens of them. I was so terrified, their savagry was so much greater than the stories Father had told me."
Rhialla stopped her pacing behind the hobgoblin her eyes watching the spilt pot, "In great swathes, the Boggle men were cut down; their numbers halved before they were able to close into a melee. Then, like lambs to a lion, they were slaughtered. Fathers stories were lies. Boggles were like moths to a flame, dying for their sick beliefs that their greatness laid within the fire. No matter how numberless, the flame only burns brighter. Your days of black skies and feeding the kings to worgs are nothing more than lies, for you are only a boggle. For countless years your kind has been an abomination only worthy of scaring children. What has changed to make you think your time has come? What signs are there that your golden age is anything more than a desperate dream of mad men?"
[b]"What I'm saying is physical pain won't do much. Let me know if your stage play needs another actor. Local info'd be nice.
The human having stripped the dead bugbears of their gear piles it all up before casting a spell. The stink of blood in the air becoming noticeably lessened as he sets on it with the minor wizardry. The dirt floors of the ruin becoming cleaner than they had been in a great while as the weaver worked.
Meanwhile the Grey and green winged and feathered lizard, Phyllis, sits on a rock near where Rhialla was interrogating the Bugbear. The creatures gaze locked onto the bound creature. Blood still dripping from its sharp beak as it decides which bits of this ones face to eat first.
What do we know of these Boggles, I mean this bugbear tribe? Are they working with the Bherug tribe? Is there anything you want to know about the missing unit you're looking for or something this one might know?"
" I know jack all about some backwater bugbear tribe. I'll ask Ornthalas when he returns. I wouldn't bother asking after our lost scouts. Most of them got returned sans body."
are there any Red griffion scout units still missing that Girian would know about? I'm assuming several have been caught and killed as the Griffs try to hunt down the Behrugs hiding place.
"This is Girian, do you know anything about the Broken Skull tribe bugbears? Our captive is one."
"You shall see elf. Soon. The time is coming and it is too late for anyone to stop it. When you and your weak kind are reduced to cattle and slaves as you deserve, you will learn to fear my kind as you did when you was a child." The bugbear begins to laugh. "You feel like you are in power right now. Before long you will be the one who is bound elf. And far worse will be done to you than what you can do to me. You will be broken. Oh, you will be broken. And. You. Will. FEAR!"
As Ornthalas returns he walks over to the others who are interrogating the bugbear. "So he is of the Broken Skull tribe. The Broken Skull tribe is a tribe of hobgoblins and bugbears who holds the White Wyvern Pass in the Kranath Mountains which leads to Vorlask, the land of the dragon Naalgahal." He pauses and looks at the bugbear. "The question is what their foul kin is doing this deep in the Waeld and how they got past the Bherugs."
"What were you and your group trying to accomplish? Why? Who was your group reporting to and where are they supposed to meet you? How did you plan to accomplish your task and how far along were you from completion? Have you seen any gold and red wearing priestesses led by an Aratheel guide in the last several weeks?" Rhialla sheathes the knife in her belt and redraws her bow while still standing behind the hobgoblin she knocks an arrows and prepares to draw the string back.
"Hah! Why were we setting up a camp in an old keep a day's travel from Avalath. Isn't it obvious? And no I haven't seen any gold and red wearing priestess, but if she went this way I wouldn't count on her still being alive. Now, I am not telling you anything else elf! But you will soon find the answers to your other questions..."
"Yer ravings would be more concerning if you weren't a toothless hound at this point." The dwarf mutters as the bugbear rants.
"So what brings you here bendalës?" the tattood elven man behind the bar asks you while he hands you the drinks you've ordered.
You have just arrived in the Waeldfolk village of Falan Feren in the western Wyvernwaeld, home to the Ghost Bear tribe, together with your friend Igvanus Lagarn, or Iggy as you call him, another mage of the Blue Dragon Society whom you've convinced to join you on your expedition into the Waeld to find the Temple of Ang Varshon.
The first thing you did was hit the local tavern The Friendly Fryrga (a fryrga is a type of forest giant)
"Whatever the Bherugs and the Broken Skulls are planning, because it's not hard to figure out that your tribe must be in league with Alskar Hearteater, it won't succeed balvarth." Ornthalas says to the bugbear before turning to Rhialla.
"Here, Rhialla. Let me do it." Ornthalas says and holds out a hand gesturing for her to return his hunting knife.
He slides back from the bar. "Barring that turn of luck, we were thinking of visiting the waeld. Heard tell of some old ruins hereabout and we thought they might be worth a looksee."
The elven bartender can't help but lift his right eyebrow skeptically while Hawkren talks, then he takes a deep breath and musters a smile which is hardly sincere. "I see... Just a friendly advice bendalë, be careful around the women around here. They have a bad temper. If you truly want to win the heart of a Ghost Bear woman you have to prove yourself through your deeds. Ghost Bear women want strong men. Brave men. Men who can provide. But they also want a man to have a good heart and to be treated with respect. I do not doubt that you are a man with such virtues, bendalë, but it will take time and dedication to win the heart of a Ghost Bear woman. Don't expect it to be easy. And regarding going looking for ruins, if I were you I wouldn't venture deeper into the Waeld in times such as these. The Bherug tribe is on the path of war, and they have nothing but disdain for outsiders. What I'm saying is, if you go looking for ruins, you are more likely to find yourself in a pool of blood missing your scalp."
He looks to see if the pubtender's mood has shifted any before pressing on in a more serious tone. "These Bherug... does their path of war come toward Falan Feren? Are your people in some need? My comrade and I may be of some help. I am Hawkren, once of Ghan Tiva." He hopes the reputation of his home will inform the pubtender of his skills, and that the distance between there and here will kindly dispose the man to forgive his stranger's humor.
While he waits for a response, Hawk considers what this exchange is teaching him of the Ghost Bear. Prickly about honor and respect; Value martial virtues... It's extraordinary what can be learned from an innocent exchange.
Rhialla shakes her head at Ornthalas, "No. You took care of the woman, I will take care of this."
She frowns and looks down, whispering a prayer,
"Though life's beauty has been cut short, love ceased, vigor wilted, and the promise of tomorrow broken. Know that even as I do not carry the candle of your memory, I burn hotter than the sun bringing wrath to those that despoil beauty such as yours."
Rhialla pulls the bowstring back and then looks where she is aiming before letting the arrow vault into the base of the bugbears skull.
The twitching only lasts a few moments.
Rhialla looks up and the others, she nods with renewed determination handing Ornthalas's knife back, and then she sees to dragging the bugbear off using the rope he was bound with.
Girian looks down at the murdered creature and rubs his hand once muttering his arcane spell, the blood of the deed in front of him vanishing as he continued.
" Good to know you are not the flower your god would imply you are." The human mutters as he continues his round of cleaning, then moving back to the pile of looted bugbear gear to mend the holes and other damage the party killing them had caused.
"Once I have completed this I will be writing a letter to my commander about the bugbears. An alliance with the bugbears of White Wyvern Pass would explain the war path the Bherug are on. The savages must have some reason to think we wouldn't just come up and crush them with all the trouble they are causing."
Magnes accustomed to his groups propensity for violence winces slightly at the bugbears death but does little else.
"Glad the damned things dead, seems all it was good for is spewing violence and hate."
With that the dhouvarr looks toward the skies rubbing his beard in thought. "Now though, onto a more important topic. Anyone feeling the desire to catch some local game? I learned a recipe in bhelskar for ale steeped game hen that could be interesting with some local creature."
Magnes says with a smile glancing to his cask.
"Mao" says the cat, from its perch on a flat shard of stone. The tabby licking one paw as it looks over at the Dhouvar, expectant
"Oi, why would I feed a beast like you? Go get your own food, or perhaps steal it from a passer-by as is yer custom." the dwarf retorts to the tabby.
The cat sniffing once and rolling over to ignore the humanoid.
Mirthal Keep:
The old elven ranger nods to Rhialla after she has completed the deed.
"Good job Rhialla. Death was all he deserved."
He then sheeths his hunting knife in the sheeth strapped to his belt next to his sword while answering Girian: "It is highly unusual for Waeldfolk, even the Bherug tribe, to cooperate with the Broken Skulls. And with the aggresiveness the Bherugs are showing, even though King Gothrund has bolstered his forces in the Waeld, I wonder if Alskar Hearteater has some card up his sleeve that we have yet to discover."
Then he takes his waterskin and pours some water in his face, before taking the bow off his back and turning to Magnes: "Sounds delicious Magnes. Shall we?"
"No offense taken." The pony-tailed elven bartender says while cleaning a tin mug. At your introduction and the mention of Ghan Tiva the man seems to lighten up. "Ghan Tiva, you say? The land of mages in southern Korthas. I've heard tales of that land. Is it true that they have ships that fly in the air? I am Jegaer by the way."
Iggy, the pale blond young man in blue robes that have already become dirty and tattered on your way through the woods, holds out his hand awkwardly. "Igvanus Lagarn."
Jegaer shakes his hand, and looks back at Hawkren. "If you want to help you should speak with Yasandra Melathnir, our chieftain."
Girian produces the scroll as the old elf speaks beginning his letter. " A fair enough point, though I doubt its anymore than bravado brought on by some sign. One of the slightly more clever ones in the tribe is taking advantage."
Magnes ,reclined on a patch of ground, looks to his supply of liquor and back to the elf. The dwarf blinking once before frowning
"Mao" Smugs the cat, lazing on its rock.
"Yeah, yeah. Alrigh' lemme jus get meh sling I guess." Argus states slightly morose as he gets up from his comfortable spot.
Hawk gives Jegaer a firm handshake. "I'm glad you know of my homeland. We do have a few airships, but not so many that the sky is crowded with them." He waves a hand like he's sweeping at a cloud of gnats. "But with enough mages, you make just about anything fly... and Ghan Tiva isn't short of spellslingers. You can't splash a pint of ale without soaking a half dozen of them. Still, it's a wondrous land and worth seeing if you ever get the chance."
"If you want to help you should speak with Yasandra Melathnir, our chieftain."
Hawkren nods his thanks, then looks at his friend's shabby condition, "We'll do that... as soon as we've washed the dust from our throats and cleaned up a bit." He pats the other mage's shoulder affectionately and tut-tuts his tattered robe. "We've got to get you some travel clothes, man! Robes may be comfortable in town but they're little good in the woods. I hope you've got a spell to mend this..."
Their drinks finished and Iggy sorted out, Hawk waves his thanks to Jegaer and herds the other mage toward the door. Once outside, he says quietly, "Let's go speak with the Chief. If we can help these Ghost Bears out a bit, I'm hoping to parlay that into getting directions or finding a guide to Ang Varshon. I'm not fancying the idea of wandering in these woods and hoping to stumble on the ruins before the Bherug stumble on us. I'm too pretty to be scalped. Does that sound like a sound plan?" Despite his cavalier attitude, Hawkren is concerned about not pushing Iggy too far beyond his limits - tangling with bloodthirsty tribes was not (he expected) Iggy's speed.
"Some flowers have thorns." Rhialla replies to Girian as she continues with the grim task of removing the bugbear.
After she has dumped the body away from the keep, she returns to make preparations for camp. After the necessary equipment has been set up she take out her journal but eyes it with hesitation.
"I hope you are right Girian, that it's not something worse." Ornthalas replies to Girian before leaving the camp in the Mirthal Keep ruins to go hunting with Magnes.
Jegaer listens with great interest, his eyes gleaming with excitement as you tell him about Ghan Tiva. "Sounds like a wondrous place, Saër Hawkren. Maybe I will have the chance to go there some day..."
While they sit and drink Iggy casts a spell of mending on his clothes.
Jegaer nods to Hawkren and Iggy on their way out.
"I don't know about all this Hawk. It sounds like we're getting into a lot more danger than what we can handle. Perhaps we should just head back to Nelphent while we still can." Iggy says concernedly.